


Every Feeling Revolts

by ONJ



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, References to Jane Austen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5201825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ONJ/pseuds/ONJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they are intimate Mycroft notices Anthea has a tattoo of a line from Emma tattooed on her ankle. She explains that the stories of Jane Austen hold a special place in her heart. So each time there have been gifts to be given, all of his to her have been tied to some Austen novel in some way, however stretched.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Feeling Revolts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afteriwake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/gifts).



He was a scientific lover. Clinical, and calculated, each move well-thought out and timely, with a touch of insecure delicacy. Mycroft Holmes wanted Anthea to want him, more than anything in his entire life. In fact, he studied every inch of her, gathering her plot points as raw data. That's when his fingertips fell upon the line. Tiny but legible, Anthea's seemingly flawless expanse of tan skin was interrupted by a tattoo in crisp white. Mycroft stopped his exploration and slowly sat back, scanning her with his eyes and both hands.   
'Every feeling revolts.' Read the tiny text. The words danced on the tips of his lips. He repeated them until they made some sense. 

Just then, Anthea yawned, slowly pulling her ankles under the blanket, a soft pink blush rushing to her cheeks. That's when she answered his unspoken question. 

"My mum... You know..." Anthea's Mother had left her in a park when she was four years old. Shortly after she was found, Anthea had been settled at a girl's home and her Mother, a manic-depressive English professor had left her with a bag of cheap jewelry and books- no birth certificate and no name. A Jane Austen 'Best of' novel was among the selected literature. 

"I suppose I never could detach myself from the heroines. These women that were so human... And yet... So happy. Elizabeth Bennett was a hero of mine for a long time..." She allowed her head to rest on his chest as he listened intently. God... he loved her. "I guess... I became Elizabeth. And... Jane... And Emma. Or at least, I tried to be." Mycroft smiled and brushed the hair from her face. Their interactions were wordless. She nodded, and he carefully pulled her in as a little spoon, their whole conversation committed to memory in a special portion of his memory palace that he called 'the Anthea wing'. 

Their first anniversary was quiet. She had forgotten entirely under the crush of work and the internal pressure to be the best she could be- for him. Mycroft took both of her hands as they sat in the corner of Giotto's, an old fashioned Italian place just a few minutes from the Queen's primary residence. Mycroft slipped a baby-blue box toward her. She blinked. "Were we doing gifts?" He smirked and she smiled back. There was a moment before she opened it with nimble fingers. A pen. Not just any pen. She gasped, her eyes watering. "You didn't! How did you..." Mycroft smiled. "The pen from the Austen estate. Jane's pen." Anthea kissed his lips. "Perhaps you might write again... Write a poem for me..." He suggested. She smirked. "We have a deal." 

Christmas. Anthea cried a lot at Christmas. Which was not something that Mycroft had bargained for- but something that he would accommodate. Anthea was on the floor in the bathroom, fiddling with a pill cap when he slipped his hands around her back, taking the bottle from her and opening it in one swoop. She released a snorting laugh, wiping her eyes as she took just one breath of relief. He kissed her cheek. "You're fine, my love. You have time... We have time." Mycroft assured. Anthea smiled and nodded, turning toward him. Mycroft was sitting with his hair tousled, his tie undone, and once-more, a small, baby blue box in his hands. She giggled softly. Inside, a pair of small white gloves rested in pink paper. He smiled. "Elizabeth, Emma and Jane all feel their gloved hands against the hands of their suitors... And I..." She kissed his lips, slipping a gloved hand into his. 

He fiddled with the ring box one hundred times before he finally got the perfect popping noise. He looked at himself in the mirror, and after a moment of readjusting his hair, he sighed. She was watching the Bridget Jones Diary as she waited for him to dress. He crouched before her, slipping a hand over hers. Anthea turned to him, and scanned his visage for a glint of something- and she found it. She softened slightly as she felt the warm gold band slip into her finger. The ring was a filigreed gold, with the words 'we are all fools in love' scrawled into it. They shared a smile and a giggle before she rested her head against his chest, her breath hitched. He spoke softly, his chin on her scalp. Mycroft was nervous, worried that he might stumble over his phrases "In vain have I struggled. It will not do." He began. Anthea's eyes met his, and watered as she cupped her hand over her mouth "My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you..." Mycroft blushed, bringing her palm to his lips. "Marry me?" He whispered. 

The personal assistant wept "God Yes..."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to PenaltyWaltz who is lovely and who donated these cute Mythea prompts to me. I know I did not do this justice, but I love this prompt for so many reasons... enjoy.


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